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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29215203">An Even Exchange;</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsnroses/pseuds/ficsnroses'>ficsnroses</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>An Even Exchange; [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Actor RPF, John Wick (Comics), John Wick (Movies), John Wick (Movies) RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - John Wick (Movies) Setting, Anal Sex, Assassins &amp; Hitmen, Consensual Sex, F/M, First Meetings, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, John Wick (Movies) References, Light Angst, Light Bondage, Loss of Virginity, Movie: John Wick: Chapter 2, Movie: John Wick: Chapter 3, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Virginity Kink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:53:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,755</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29215203</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsnroses/pseuds/ficsnroses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You sell your virginity to John Wick.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Wick &amp; You, John Wick - Relationship, John Wick/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>An Even Exchange; [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2292383</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Part of a series! Part two will be up shortly.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John Wick is a man of focus; little diversions that fray from his work were often absent of his mind. It’s been years since his semblance of hope, the light at the end of the tunnel had gave out on him, and he’d been dragged back into the world of gruesome sin for good.</p><p>Bound, serving under the table. A life liberate of vice was something John had stopped dreaming of long ago.</p><p>Work had been all that engrossed John, absorbed each inch of energy his battered bones could muster up for far too long. To be working, meant to be seldom alone. Being alone, translated to being unaccompanied, with<em> himself</em>. <em>Listening</em> to the weary, dark loomed thoughts that crawled in the crevices of his mind.  </p><p>A crisp pour of amber bourbon sloshes into the clear crystal glass; a lone cube of sparkler ice accompanies the liquor John would soon shoot. Something that <em>burns</em>, something that might ease the part of him that thinks, ponders, <em>wonders</em> if this was alright.</p><p>      Is what he’s doing, really, alright?</p><p>He stands, leaning on the high raised counter of the bar equipped in his hotel room. The crème walls of the Continental held many secrets, secured home to the worst of folk he’d had the ill-fate of dwelling among.</p><p>The men in here were awful. <em>Cold, indifferent</em>, chilled blood coursing wicked veins; John knew well of the evil that rummages within the corridors of this so called, safe haven.</p><p>Anyone else would <em>destroy </em>her<em>.</em></p><p>Could <em>ruin </em>her.</p><p>John wouldn’t do that. Something separates John from the bulk of the crowds, something that differs him from the norm. John would on no occasion hurt an innocent being. John wouldn’t rip her to shreds. John would treat her as <em>human;</em> something people often forgot that <em>John too</em>, is.</p><p>Temporary relief, relaxation, substance; he’d vexed them all. Often, after a job well complete, he’d find himself in dire need of long repose; a minute to rest his somnolent composure. A moment to recharge, before he’d be forced to do it all over. Human contact, <em>connection</em>, was something he’d scarcely recalled.</p><p>A Bourbon would often have to do, the familiar scald down the cascade of his throat the only comfort he’d been accustomed to as of late. Yet recent, he’d been craving more. He’d been yearning for something more; something <em>physical</em> to satiate relief.</p><p>A heavy inhale floods his lungs, a lone hand held to his drink as his other toys with the collar of his brittle white dress shirt. Her eyes stayed on him, drinking in each of his features, desperate to understand how he’d be. John Wick is a man of few words, a stoic nature barely illuminating enough light to read.</p><p>He turns, the crystal glass set down on the hotel room table as he turns to her, on his bed, her legs crossed closed, silent. Like a lover, the silk of her short black dress seduces each curve of her <em>devourable</em> body, thin straps kissed to her satin shoulders, her silken skin gleaming under the hotel room lights. His voice is deep, ravishingly rich, throaty with gruff as it protrudes her ears. “You’ve never done this before?” He confirms, walking closer to her delicate frame, watching her equally unreadable expression.</p><p>When he’d first laid eyes on her, he’d found himself unable to look away. Captivatingly beautiful, enough to make any man week in his knees. John wasn’t one to fantasize, to want a woman, let alone offer a second look.</p><p>Yet seeing her, he’d downed in the enchant of her beautiful features; and the best part of all,</p><p><b>She was selling</b>. She’d been looking to give herself to the highest bidder.</p><p>John Wick had found himself at the right place, at the right time. An impulsive buy, one might say. But he couldn’t leave her. Not only did his body yearn for someone, <em>something</em> to channel his deep need into, he also knew. She was far too precious, pure; whatever circumstances had brought her to do such a thing, he wouldn’t ask.</p><p>He’d buy her. And he’d use her service.</p><p>He needed it. Sex hungry, his body longs for someone<em> real</em> to take care of him.</p><p>Her eyes are soft, lips stained a rosy shade of mauve as she makes direct eye contact. Blushy cheeks, soft, shining hair flutters gentle in free air as she shakes her head ‘no’.</p><p>She’d never been with anyone before. She was pure. Untouched.</p><p>With a down of the final few drops of drink in his glass, John’s shirt unbuttons, peeled off his torso in a swift motion, revealing beautifully toned, bulked muscles; rosy skin, a broad back, tattooed with bold ink on display. John must have been 20 years her senior, yet his shape proved peak. Firm biceps, defined torso, beautifully groomed, lengthy chocolate locks only adding to his splendour.</p><p>She’d expected to be bought by some middle aged, unattractive man looking to be with anyone other than his wife. John was far from that. She didn’t know if he’d seen seeing anyone else, if he was married, taken.</p><p>Not that it was any of her business.</p><p>She watches his hands move to fondle a heavy worn belt, working the buckle as it comes off his dark slacks.</p><p>“Is there anything you don’t want me to do.”</p><p>John’s rich voice surges through her ears, his question falling his thin taut lips as more of a statement, an establishment of boundaries.</p><p>She didn’t think she’d get that choice. She’d expected to be used however her buyer pleased.</p><p>With a gentle clear of throat, she nods her head no, gazing out the window of the high story hotel suite. Busy New York city life buzzes below, the nightlife pulsing through the city heart. Endless opportunity. Endless chance.</p><p>John’s belt thuds to the marble floor with a heavy clink, his body inching closer, hand dangerously close to her feeble frame as he asks, the question sending shivers down her spine. “Can I undress you?”</p><p>The question came with surprise. Part of her thanked the universe for delivering her to John, of all men. He’d been hard to read, reserved, but he hadn’t done what she’d prepared herself for immense. Although she knew, her body was merely a vessel for him to use, to get what he <em>wanted</em>, he hadn’t treated her as such. Hadn’t treated her as she’d gave up her right to respect when she’d bartered her purity.</p><p>When Y/N nodded, John moves in closer, placing his dense frame beside hers as he begins, unravelling her as if a present. Yearning, wondering of what held underneath the rippling drapes of the sleek fabric, his eyes gloss over her skin, thick fingers removing the straps of her dress, before reaching behind her to unzip the seams of her wear. Diminishing to her mid, her modesty falls perfectly plump on her chest, embellished in expensive lace. The swell of her chest leaves him feel the weight in his pants to harden, the sight of her cleavage, <em>pursing together with hardened nipples</em>. Unclasping the dainty hooks that shield her breasts from his prying gaze, John allows the thin textile to fall off, exposing her beautiful femininity; her breathtaking curves, soft, supple skin tender to the touch. His hands can’t seem to resist, callous palms moving in to roam the exquisiteness, thumbs swirling her tender nipples as he sighs, drinking her in.</p><p>“Stand up.” John’s voice demands, his own form staying placed at the foot of the bed as he instructs. Doing as told, she feels his warm hands tug at the seams of her dress, allowing the fabric to pool at her feet, leaving behind nothing but her lacy underwear covering what no one had indulged in before. Paired with pencil black heels, John takes a moment to devour the look of her stood in front of him; bare, voluptuous, almost entirely nude, causing a tent to rise in his pants. Without time to waste, his fingers intrude the skimpy cloth, gentle peeling her panties down, revealing <em>all</em> of her, solely, <em>exclusively</em> for his taking.</p><p>Had this not been an exchange where John owned her, he might have just fell prisoner to her mercy. Y/N was a beauty he’d never seen, mirroring a sex siren in her own right. The dips and curves of her frame mesmerise him, a gulp swallowed down his tight throat, a hefty palm unknowingly moving to palm his swollen cock through the fabric of his slacks. She bites her lip, vulnerable, never have being shown to anyone this way before.</p><p>John was the first to see her in all her glory, she finds herself moving shy hands to cover her form, nervous to the way he scans each inch of her body, as if memorizing it, keeping the sight locked away, stored within his gaze forever. “<em>Gorgeous</em>…” John’s voice whispers a gruff, two of his sturdy fingers moving to slick through her folds, palming her pussy as shivers tingle down her spine. She’d been trying her best to stay calm, to allow John to do as he pleased.</p><p>Right now, in this moment, her body rightfully belonged to him. He was permitted to do <em>whatever</em> he sought.</p><p>“I want you on your knees.” John explains firmly, connecting his bold gaze to hers and she nods, falling in front of his form sat on the silky sheets. Without a moment to waste, his hands trail down his zipper, throwing the expensively stitched slacks off his thighs to the floor, left in nothing but a pair of thin boxers. In a swift moment, his stocky fingers dip into the opening, allowing a hardened shaft to fall out in his grip, full, bursting balls to accompany.</p><p>She’d seen a man’s cock before; but John, John’s member was a sight to be seen. She swallows, intrigued by the grandeur, the rosy tip swollen, the thick veins that run up his length, a slight curve to its form. He offers himself a few measly tugs, dark eyes connecting to hers once again. “<em>Do you want a safe word?</em>”</p><p><em>A safe word</em>. Perhaps if a word; a small, paltry word could save her from nonetheless being in this situation, she would have used it.</p><p>“No.” Her voice falls quiet, eyes diverted to the crème marble below. “If its too much, I’ll tell.” In the dim light of the room, a channel glow casts to her exposed skin; velvet and soft, making the plump of her mauve stained lips rouse John’s needy cock in desperate anticipation.</p><p>Without hesitation, John’s lust falls deeper, his throat tight, breath heavy.</p><p>Being with a woman, was something John felt had last happened centuries ago. Seeing her, stripped, uncovered, on her knees, keenly awaiting to be wrapped around his length; a fire burns in his belly. A hunger that rumbles across the surface, desperately ready to chase sweet, sweet relief, from <em>her.</em></p><p>“Here,” John encourages, taking hold of his base with a loose grip. With his spare palm, his fingers thread into the locks of her hair, gently pulling her mouth closer. Slowly, firmly, his palm glides over the bottom of his shaft, beads of glossy pre cum quivering out the pink tip as he speaks. “Put those pretty lips on me.” Obliging, she nods, positioned between John’s thighs, nervous to the core.</p><p>She’d seen videos, heard people talk. But she’d never taken a man into her mouth before.</p><p>John would be the first, to feel her in every <em>sinning</em> way he pleased.</p><p>“Fuck,” John sighs through gritted teeth, feeling the warm haven of her lips circle around the thickness of his tip. Tightening on her tresses, his hand falls from his base, cupping hers in a gentle hold, before guiding it to replace his own. “Use your hands on what you can’t fit.” He instructs, walnut eyes darker, yet held with a certain sympathy.</p><p>A tenderness; mortality. “<em>Move, baby</em>.” John manages, eyes fluttering shut as his senses indulge, the feel of her tongue gently, kindly swirling his shaft take over. Gradually, his hand, laced within the locks of her hair guides her further down the bulk of his cock, forcing her to take a little more with each eager bob.</p><p>“Hallow your cheeks, darling.” John watches her intent, in awe with the way she learns so quick. “Eyes on me,” Practically sputtering into a pool of bliss, John’s deep baritoned words sear through her veins.</p><p>“<b>Tighter</b>.</p><p><b>Deeper</b>.”</p><p>Drawn into his, her eyes pierce into his own earthy orbs, unknown to the throb of arousal growing in her core; John <em>bought </em>her for the evening. Was it sick of her to be…fascinated by him?</p><p>His room is simple. A suit jacket rests to the arm chair on the right, a barely touched bar of liquor to accompany. Little of him can be told from the depths of this room, perhaps he wasn’t here too often.</p><p>The folk of the Continental were scarce when not at work, leaving little trace of who they really were behind. She’d heard <em>whispers</em> of a man they called John Wick, she hadn’t been entirely unfamiliar to the dread he’d upheld within the sanctioned walls. Wick was a name that held fear to the tips of even the worst of sinner’s tongues; yet she finds herself far from. <em>She wasn’t fearful of John Wick. She wasn’t scared of what he’d do</em>.</p><p>As John urges her further, a choked gap emits her throat, eyes filling with a char of hot tears with his cock still shoved inside her mouth. Collecting herself, she keeps him inside, albeit, allowing some of him to fall out. “<em>You’re alright</em>.” John soothes, wiping escaped tears with his callous thumb. “<em>You’re doing well</em>.” With a nod, her movements commence, eager to find her pace again, free hands massaging his thick balls and veiny shaft that couldn’t accommodate in her mouth.</p><p>The sound of hallow gags and a mouth full of cock echo the room, throaty slickness and gasp for breath, John harshly praising her with a guide of pace. “Perfect. Fucking perfect.” A firm hand follows suit to her bare breast, palming, kneading the fleshy skin as her mouth words wonders on his sensitive skin. Without much notice, John’s eager hips buck impatiently into her mouth, so nonchalantly, a test of waters if you may.  </p><p>If he had it his way, he would <b>fuc</b>k her tiny mouth senselessly right then and there. Have her throat bruising, <em>aching</em> for days in his aftermath.</p><p>But John Wick isn’t a monster. John isn’t selfish.</p><p>Each time she comes down, slowly, cautiously, his swollen tip hits the back of her throat, threatening to venture further with each throb John’s bulge radiates inside. With his hips thrusting into her mouth lightly, John’s jaw tightens, goosebumps peppering his ink adorned skin. With his pace fastening, his primal desires barely cease; barely offer mercy when he pulls her head closer, wrapping his palms firmly to her head as he moves her head on his cock hastier, stiff<em>, needier</em>, causing srteams of sweltering tears to flow her soft cheeks as she tries her best to hold in her gags. Dangerously close to release, her head yankers back in John’s grip; strings of saliva webbing off her lips, connected to his tender shaft, allowing the bulk of his member to fall out, still erect to an intimidatingly large size.</p><p>He could have done with just her sinfully tight mouth; yet he wouldn’t. Tonight, he’d cum <em>inside her</em>. <em>Tonight, he’d have something other than the lonesome grip of his sloppy hand for company</em>; to extinguish that rummaging burn.</p><p>With a rise off the bed, John offers her a larger hand, eyes interlocked as she accepts, rising off the ground. His gravelly voice is low, Y/N’s unchecked tears and swollen lips leaving her a beautiful mess as John’s inquisitive gaze washes over her. What comes next, causes her breath to hitch; her insides searing, arousal growing wetter by the second.</p><p>With his rock hard cock digging into the skin of her stomach, she finds her self locked lips with John, who’s taken her in a sweet kiss, tasting himself on her tongue. The kiss personifies appetite, thirst, all things John craved in the moment. With his hand taking hers, deliberate movements guide her to the tall side of the bed, silky sheets and cotton pillows awaiting her arrival. His skin smells of cologne, something expensive, something s<em>auvage</em>. The taste of his heavy liquored tongue meddles with hers before letting go, lustful eyes encouraging her to lay down in the ripple of sheets. With his cock firm in his hand, he continues to offer himself a couple of strokes, a spare hand intruding into the hard oak nightstand to the side.</p><p>“Are you taking anything?” His voice flows through the room, heavy, shallow, adding clarification when her brows furrow. “For protection<em>.</em>”</p><p>Fiddling with her growing nervous fingers, she tenses, suddenly urged with the realization of what would come next. This was happening.</p><p>This was</p><p>  really</p><p>     happening.</p><p>John was going to <em>fuck her</em>. John, soon, would take that piece of her. This beautiful stranger, mysterious, yet intriguing, would make a part of her belong to him</p><p>     forever.</p><p>“No sir.” She answers, eyes downcast, unsure of where to look as he preps himself. Fishing out a condom from the side drawer, the silver lining falls discarded somewhere on the marble floor along with the shambles of their clothes, mindlessly placed. “Lay down.” John tells, dimming the lights further, the curtains closed shut as night falls over the shadowy New York city horizon. She does as told, awaiting his body to accompany.</p><p>Her eyes find his back once again, watching delicate, cryptic ink that coats his broad skin in curiosity. A seemingly cross centers in the middle, an arrangement of words unknown to her cognizance bedecked along. As he finds himself crawling a top her sprawled figure, his hands guide her legs open further, hand palming her mound as she bites her lip. Slow, steady, he guides in the stock of two fingers, sensually slow, preparing her pretty cunt for his taking.</p><p>Coated with her silky arousal, his fingers gleam, a creamy mixture of her gloss glazed over his hand. Punctuated by her tender, soft, barely audible whimpers, a light chuckle emits John’s throat. “You <em>don’t have to stay quiet</em>.” He clears, fingers pumping slightly faster now, expertly judging her expressions. “Ever done this before?”</p><p>Y/N was a virgin; but no saint by any means. She’d touched herself before, even brought herself to orgasm on occasion. With a shy nod, she answers, punctuated by her own barely held together, soft moans to the feel of John’s much thicker fingers pulsing in and out of her. With the pad of his thumb, he works her clit, his hand arranging a beautiful symphony begging to fall off her lips.</p><p>The feel of John’s touch was nothing like her own, paired with the weight of his body on hers. As if habitually, her back arches, her toes curl, a whimper secreted when he draws his fingers out. With his heavy cock in hand, John lines himself up with her entrance, wanting nothing more than to be buried inside; to feel what she had to offer. With his enlarged tip rubbing over her clit, his voice registers barely in her ears, lost in the feel of him on her.</p><p>“Tell me to stop.” His gravelly voice reminds, assertion heavy on his tongue.</p><p>John was proving awfully hard to read. She appreciates the respect; the boundaries he was willing to set for her. She’d sworn, she could see a light of humility in him, contrasted, laced with dark need. If he wanted, she knew he could <em>ruin her</em>.</p><p>Without much warning, she feels his tip impend into her walls, sinking slow, <em>stretched by his weight</em>, her eyes widening noticeably when John’s girth pushes into her, cock widening her immensely.</p><p>She knew John’s member would be far larger than the feel of anything she’d felt before; yet perhaps she’d underestimated just how much larger it would feel. Plunging in further, a tight moan escapes John’s lips, drowning in further, slower, steadier, until he’s reached her end. Hissing at her tightness, he feels her clench around him, a breathy gasp of her own fleeing, nails sinking into the sheets in a fitted clasp.</p><p>Had the circumstances been different, he’d have asked her to hold onto him instead; maybe even let her burry her face in his neck as he works her body whole.</p><p>But that wasn’t what this was. This was merely an exchange. An agreement for him to get exactly what he needed;</p><p>       mind blowing sex.</p><p>All John needed right now, was a rough, and good fuck to hold him over.</p><p>He stays still for a moment, feeling her cunt pulse around him, and her eyes shut tight, breathing measured as she relishes in the feel of him full, nestled inside her wet haven, before placing both sturdy hands on her hips in a strong hold. Rapt with desire, John’s primal instincts kick in, the feel of her welcoming pussy so perfectly mould to his cock; he’d sworn or a moment that she was perfectly, exclusively crafted <em>just</em> for him to fuck. With his hips picking up pace, John sucks in a sharp breath, a groan of pleasure to the way her heavenly walls tighten around him, tight, blissfully gratifying.</p><p>She can’t help but gasp, searing tears returning once again to the ungodly stretch. John burns inside, allowing her minimal time to adjust. His hips buck into hers, gradually picking up pace as he thrust deeper, harder, conjuring up an almost selfish pace.</p><p>She’d never felt anything like this before. The pain, the <em>pleasure</em>. The <em>sinful pleasure</em> of him practically splitting her inch by inch. His cock glides in and out her constricted entrance, and she practically whimpers; unsure of whether the moans signified pain, or immense pleasure.</p><p>It hurt, but in the best ways possible. His aggressive roll of hips only quickens, faster and faster until Y/N’s moans caged no more. Her lips longed to moan his name, scarcely able to keep her eyes open to see the way he pants above her figure.</p><p>With her breasts bouncing vigorously to his pace, John’s want only cultivates further. Watching his cock glide in and out of her sends him in a frenzy, the way she violently jerks with each movement, the sound of his balls smacking against her sweltering core give life to a filthy symphony of her stifled yelps and moans, blended religiously with his growls and throaty gruffs.</p><p>His eyes roll shut and he bites his lip, the sounds of her wetness bobbing him fill the room to his violent labour of hips, each time he sinks in and out. His cock glistens with her honeyed dew, her hand reverting over her mouth to confine a loud moan threatening to surface. Whimpering, she bites her arm in complete ecstasy, the feel of John throbbing, completely filling her whole becoming much.</p><p>John had been practically pounding her, minutes in. The feeling of having someone to spend the night with, left him far more aroused than he’d initially planned. Her legs tremble, gazing down to observe the way his load exits her cunt fully before slamming back in repeatedly, over, and over, and <em>over, erratic imperative</em>. With every nerve in her body threatening to snap, she relishes a moment to feel John inside.</p><p>John’s thickness is something she doesn’t think she’ll be able to forget. Each nerve, each throbbing vein, that curve of his shaft she witnessed earlier; his thrusts become urgent, cock twitching within, grinding vigorously to her g spot as his breathe lays hot, close to her skin. Ridged and rough, his fingers threaten to leave purple bruises peppering into her hips, his hold of her body immensely stiff, as if fearful of her disappearing. The bed below creeks, headboard assaulting the walls with profound hits to his demanding haste; she’s already sore from his massive size, and he <em>hasn’t even finished</em> yet.</p><p>“<em>Fuck…you feel</em>,” John’s deep voice, sultry and stiff surges her ears, rich as butter. “<em>You feel fucking amazing, tighten up for me, darling.</em>” He instructs, wanting to feel her milk his cock. She follows as told, squeezing her walls around him, squirming, wailing underneath his form. He pushes as much of himself in as possible and she screams, feeling a cocktail of their fusing released drip down her thighs. John looks delectable this way; beads of exertion peppered to his forehead, muscled skin sticking to hers, the smell of sex prominent around them as he continues pumping her relentlessly, senselessly. To a particularly rough thrust, her toes curl, arms coming around his shoulders to hold on dearly, tightly as he continues his rummage into her body. She holds tight, fingernails digging into his skin as grunts and ear-splitting moans intrude the atmosphere.</p><p>John is fucking her so well, so intense, that tears fall still, the raunchy sounds of skin slapping skin, enticing whispers of praise off his lips for her body only pushing her further. John feels his release close, lost in the tender haven she’d given him to spoil in, and he shudders; shivering, buried deep, deep inside her, the sounds of her wetness slicking his member echoing the walls. Within a few particularly lewd, unaltered thrusts, she screams his name, gasping, holding onto his biceps lifelessly as he quickens his pace, his own release not far behind.</p><p>He slams, harder, and <em>harder</em>, channeling an animalistic pace to her core, a rhythm of lust drunk pleasure imploring each inch of his body as he still deep, deep inside her pussy, spurting thick streams of sticky, glossing white cum into the dainty condom he’d worn. He stills for a moment, neither of them speaking; heaving sighs and rapid breaths as they come down from their highs, her limbs still securely wrapped around his frame. A joint euphoria; a paradise they’d created together. A creamy mixture of their releases drips to the satin sheets below, although John ceases to care.</p><p>Right now, in this moment, he finds himself <em>truly, wholly</em></p><p><em>relieved</em>.</p><p>He’d gone so long, so distant without sex. Without human touch, connection. With his cock still sheathed inside her warm harbour, he sighs, relishing even in the feel of her holding him.</p><p>And a moment passes, then another; and another. With his weight rested on shaky palms to the bed sheets on either side of her, John sighs, panting, watching the way she swallows a lump in her throat; beads of vapour dotted to her glistening skin.</p><p>Gorgeous, he thinks.</p><p>She’s got those pretty eyes, satin skin. She felt surreal. He’d seen the stars buried inside her.</p><p>Slow and steady, John moves, allowing his flaccid member to slip out her warm hold. The sun has fully set, and the moonlight barely filters in through the slits of opaque curtains. With a towel retrieved, one he’d set aside prior to their session beside the bedframe, he finds place back, next to her worn out frame.</p><p>John had fucked her so good, so hard, she’d worn her legs may just give out in any attempt of rising on her feet. Relishing, sunken into the mattress as she watches him move calm, collected, the feel of John cleaning what he’s left behind off her womanhood causes the softest of blush to intrude, peppering her skin. With the condom discard, John’s hoarse voice rasps, breaking the still of long endured silence. “You’re alright?” He probes, watching the way she sits up on the bed, the threads of the duvet he’d spent countless nights burrowed in alone fixed in her grip, pulling it over her bare breasts, covering herself from his chocolate gaze.</p><p>She’s shyer now than before, after sex bliss stippled over her skin, her pussy sore from the action. The emptiness John had left <em>ached</em>. She’d be reminded of the mysterious man with painted skin for days;</p><p>prompted by what story his back really told.</p><p>What intrigued her so much, about the man who’d taken her in the filthiest of ways.</p><p>“Did I hurt you?” He inquires, and she’d sworn the way he looks at her…the way his eyes glaze over her features, as if watching so intently her every move, a symphony flows inside her, coursing that acquainted boil in her stomach. Nodding her head, no, she watches him pull on a pair of long forgotten boxers, opting himself a seat to the edge of the bed as she stays put. Despite having just had had sex with him, she finds herself nervous to be exposed to his eyes again; a dire side effect of the toll his handsomeness had truly taken on her.</p><p>She finds herself, tense. Intimidated by his grandeur.</p><p>A story writes itself, a tale that brews in the depth of their minds. Racing a mile a minute, he’d known. And perhaps she had too; that the sex had been far too good.</p><p><em>Dangerously</em> good.</p><p>The words brew on the tip of his tongue, yet he finds himself cautious of their release. Would he be awful for thinking these thoughts? Was he soiling her, tainting her for his selfish needs, thinking of the dirtiest fate he could try her; propose to her before she’d be gone.</p><p>A fuck this good doesn’t come easy, and John wasn’t looking for romance. Love was something he’d forgotten a long time ago, wasn’t sure he’d been worthy of such a thing.</p><p>      ;yet he’d found her. Someone who <em>could</em> take care of his physical needs; someone he could use for that intimacy he too, direly needed. Had lacked for years, finally tasting it, <em>within her</em>.</p><p>The way she felt was something John would find himself struggling to forget. The warm, wet, deliciously slick feel of her welcoming cunt; John hadn’t had someone as good as her. She’d ruined it for him. Nothing had compared. No one had taken care of his cock the way she’d done in a meagre 30 minutes.</p><p>He’d request. He’d propose. He’d bargain her <em>an even exchange</em>.</p><p>With a gruff crisp in his throat, his guttural voice catches her by surprise. Under the duvet, her naked skin flushes to a warm, temperate ease. Fulfilled, relaxed, riding high on sex satisfied clouds, tingles still felt within each snapping nerve of her skin. His tone is calm, collected; upheld with dominance.</p><p>She delighted in his dominance. “I want to offer you.” He begins, a hand placed on his bare thigh. “A contract. For your services.”</p><p><em>Services</em>. Bold of him to assume, this was something she’d planned on doing for more men. “An offer…?” Her tongue seeps, the words a quiet, barrel mumble to his proposition. In the barely lit room, her inquisitive eyes glow; a familiar glow to the way they’d shone, glossy. When his cock had been rammed deep down her tight throat.</p><p>“A contract.” He repeats, professionally. “I want you. Again.” His tone finds a quiver building within her core, her thighs longing to be wrapped around his waist, the way they dripped control, <em>power</em>. “I’ll pay you<em>, generously</em>.” He nods, eyebrows raised, a gaze to her smaller body buried in his sheets. “But when I need you, you come. No questions, no excuses.” He adds, studying her form, the way her brows furrow, lost in the aftermath of his words.</p><p>“You’ll be mine to use. For the duration of the contract.”</p><p><em>His</em>. She could be</p><p>his.</p><p>Racing a mile, a minute, her thoughts haze, the rush of adrenaline, the weight of his proposition thick in a fog on her brain. Her senses tense, her thoughts freeze. The sight of him catches her lost.</p><p>His. To belong to the man, with the muscled back and bold tinted ink. The man who’d fucked her <em>pornographically</em>. Her cluster of deliberations interrupts with his thick voice, velvety, rich. “I’ll let you sit on it.” He offers, standing, the crisp white dress shirt he’d peeled off his frame earlier back in his sturdy grip as he drapes it on. “I need to take care of some business with the manager. I’ll be back within the hour.” Buttoning the top, coffee hued locks curtain his face, his perfectly groomed beard in perfect contrast with the lighter fabric; the bulge of his toned arms protruding at the textile. “And when I’m back,</p><p>      I’ll be expecting another round.</p><p>Have yourself ready, please.”</p><p>And with those piercing words, he dresses himself, leaving her bare, exposed, in his bed.</p><p>A promise to come back for more left behind.</p><p><em>A demand</em>, for more when he’d be back.</p><p>John wasn’t looking for love. John made it clear. This was physical. Something to quench his every <em>longing</em> need.</p><p><em>The ring of the door shut, the buzzing New York traffic below</em>. She sits, decision tense on her mind.</p><p>        John Wick, was her first.</p><p>        And he, wanted her to be his <em>last.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. —ii;</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>john calls you for the first time after you agree to become his to use, whenever he pleases.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>series summary [oneshots, can be read as stand alone]: you sell your virginity to john wick.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“When I need you, you come. No questions,</p><p><em>no </em>excuses.”  </p><p>
  <b>.</b>
</p><p>In the late of the eve, John had called her.</p><p>His contract, she’d accepted.</p><p>Short, the conversation entailed none more than his quiet words, confident, assured. “<em>I need you tonight.</em>” He’d spoken, rich, beautifully rung off his deep tongue, the sound as smoky as ash in his throat.</p><p>Part of her wonders<em>, ponders</em> about this mysterious man. Handsome, built on perfect shape, he’d surely have no trouble finding someone to satisfy his every need. Perhaps, someone who could offer him more than she could.</p><p>He’d been the first man she’d slept with; <em>he’d taken her virginity</em>. Surely, he could find someone far more experienced to take care of him.</p><p>John’s home is large; extravagant. Crisp white beams and shining glass windows. A large yard, tall built trees generously speckled upon the estate. Surely, John Wick is a lavish man, equipped with more than enough financial security.</p><p><em>He did buy her</em>.</p><p>Walking further, the night sky gleams, the moon glows in cold warmth.</p><p>
  <em>Cold warmth.</em>
</p><p><em>Bittersweet</em>.</p><p>After the night at the hotel, she hadn’t been summoned by John yet. A loch 4 days later, his call had beckoned her in the late hour of the night. The thought of what she was walking into right now bites in her head, <em>gnaws</em>, the ponderings growing with each heavy step.</p><p>She wasn’t scared of John; she <em>knew</em> he wouldn’t treat her awfully.</p><p>If the night at the Continental had proven anything at all, it was the assuring fact that John would respect her, her boundaries. He’d use her for his every need, yet never without consent.</p><p>Something special seems to grow inside John; she’d learned that in a mere three hours spent with his manhood curled between her legs.</p><p>John fucked her twice more that evening, only bid goodnight when he’d had to call it a night, sleep dense on his sex satisfied form. A taxi swept her home that evening, dropped her safely in her home, John’s proposition heavy on her mind,</p><p>Her answer <em>yes</em>, even heavier.</p><p>With each step, the thought of what would be to follow exhausts her, even before arrival. Beneth her feet, the path seems to crumble a little more; distracted<em>, restless</em>, she finds herself unsure of what to expect.</p><p>Reading into her own emotions, thoughts, feelings had been tough over the course of the prior four days. Between the sheets, John was a force to not be reckoned with. He’d shown <em>her the fucking stars</em>, left her yearning for more through the entire duration of the evening. Kind, respectful, reserved, his naturally dominant nature only intrigued.</p><p>She found herself marvelling more and more about the man with the bolded tattoos, the soft, mocha hair that curtains his dark eyes, the broad scars and firm mauve bruises that littered his skin. She wonders if somewhere under a hard exterior, was something softer.</p><p>
  <em>Wonders, muses, guesses.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>His cocoa kissed hair falters in hues; strands lengthy, messier than the night at the Continental. A candle burns in his long, lavish hallway; a flickering flame, steady, stirring. He’d greeted her, a nod of his head, reserved, his demeanour professional.</p><p>“Can I get you anything?” He’d asked, voice firm, yet held with that familiar comfort that had drawn her to him nights ago. He was assertive, reserved, yet still,</p><p>kind. Had she met him on the glittering streets of busy New York, perhaps ran into him at a heavy trafficked coffee shop, struck up a conversation of how she’d seen his familiar coffee hued hair and mahogany eyes seldom in the secluded walls of the Continental, she’d never assume.</p><p>She’d never guess,</p><p>that <em>sex </em>was all he wanted. Something physical, was all he’d engrossed.</p><p>She’d gotten comfortable in the silence he’d hold, his persona exclusive. Nonetheless, the most she’d heard out of his gravelly throat were the occasional grunt of pleasure, soft, muffled moans laced with a hoarse undertone emitting the air as he’d be thrusting <em>selfishly</em> on top of her. To his question, she returns. “<em>I’m alright, thank you.</em>”</p><p>He nods, as she follows him up the profligate wooden stairs. Something inside her builds, the striking view of his toned back and muscled features tensing when he leads the way. His home is quiet, and much to her surprise, <em>it looks like a home</em>. Flowers in vases, paintings of daisies and sunflower blooms wreathed to tall white walls, crisp and snowy.</p><p>Flowers bloom in his home, solace currents.</p><p><em>She’d never thought, that John Wick, lives among pretty flowers, that bloom</em>.</p><p> From behind as she follows up the stairs, he looks towering, strong, defined.  </p><p>She stares, and she stares, and she thinks. <em>That the evening would end, with this nerve-wrackingly gorgeous man, nestled, <b>buried</b> between her legs</em>.</p><p>        The top of the stairs arrive, and with them, a new found <em>suffocation</em>. </p><p>Shackled with dread, a foreign feeling prevails to the sight, perhaps astonishment, bewilderment. And even through the ice of his reserved, quiet demeanour, she’d swore she’d seen a flicker in his compose. A halt of movement, as he’d glanced <em>their</em> way as well, despite best attempts to avoid.</p><p>Pictures scatter scarcely along the crisp white walls; John, and a <em>woman</em>. Photographs of a <em>couple, happily in love</em>, diffuse the walls, in the home of the man who <em>taken</em> her purity not long ago.</p><p>Proof of something <em>bigger</em> disperses the walls; stipples the walls where she’d soon offer her body,</p><p>to the same man who’d looked <em>smitten</em> in them.</p><p>The joints in her neck creak almost glancing their way, her veins course with a poison of something dreadful. Brittle fingers mould along her sides, taking place in frantic burden.</p><p><em>Intrusion; the feeling of being out of place</em>.</p><p>
  
</p><p>This room is smaller, emptier, colder.</p><p>A single king bed presents against the wall, center of the room, silk sheets and monumental pillows. John’s back tenses as he paves the way, perhaps a drain of the way her eyes held thick with worry, seeing the sights of the previous hall. His hands fall rested to sturdy sides, breathe collected, expression grim.</p><p>She knew less things about John than the amount of hours they’d spent together.</p><p>She’d fucked him more times than things she’d known of his personal life.</p><p>And with the realization fading in; of John being <em>a stranger</em>, with his own life, his own battles, she wonders. Wonders if this was wrong. If she was breaking a house, fueling the destruction of a <em>home</em>. The thoughts race, the worries set in. Her bones carry a weight that hadn’t been present when she’d entered the lavish home; the grimmer lights of the dimly lit hallway matching those of her weary mind.</p><p>A sharp edge cuts. Something <em>cuts, and cuts into her</em>, <em>twisting uneasiness</em>.</p><p>“I’m not married.” John’s deep voice interjects her ponder, voice harder than before, and a shiver falls, cascades her spine; and it has nothing to do with the frigid air of bedroom. His attention turns to her, only brief, eyes only finding her face for a mere second or two, before finding more comfort diverted to the hardwood below. “I’m not in a relationship,” He exhales, and she’d swore the lines of his forehead tensed with each syllable. “This…isn’t wrong. Rest assured.” He adds, and the silence that follows her gentle nod of head was near deafening. She’d listened to the erratic, uneven beat of her own heart to his statement, a dense swallow in her throat when his figure advances toward the bed further.</p><p>John had probably only communicated a meagre 100 words to her, and she <em>ached</em> to hear more. His broad, tattooed back holds a story she <em>knows</em> not all ears can retain. The whispers are real; the stories had made their way around.</p><p>John Wick hadn’t become what he is over the sun bidding goodbye to a dark night.</p><p>A man of focus, as greatly as him, is <em>conditioned.</em> Taught, hardened, <em>habituated</em> to kill.</p><p>The questions, she knew would remain just those.</p><p><em>Questions</em>,</p><p>that John would never entertain. This was a business deal; and to his personal details, she had no right.</p><p>For a moment, he stops. His head turns slow, his reserved features hold the weight of a million words, pent up frustrations <em>pleading </em>to be let out. Their eyes meet across the room. She doesn’t understand the look in his eyes. And out of all the things she’d sworn he’d wanted to say,</p><p>One stays imminent.</p><p>Need. He <em>needs</em> her.</p><p>He called her here today because he <em>needs</em> her. Needs a vessel, a gateway to relief.</p><p>Her job is to <em>take care of him, sexually</em>. To make him <em>feel </em>good. She stands, observing the way his tall, dark frame reminds her of what was to come. He’d mould their bodies together as one so expertly, so skilfully,</p><p>John was all she’d ever tasted; the first, and only man she’d ever let touch her.</p><p>And the worst part of it all, was that she was unsure, she could ever let another do the same again.</p><p>John’s thrusts would leave her weak, the sex was something holy in its own right, and she, was falling <em>hopelessly</em> addicted with each session. Hopelessly <em>intoxicated</em> by the way he’d make her feel so, <em>so</em> fucking good, when it was her job to satisfy <em>him</em>.</p><p>His low, rich voice breaks the secure silence.</p><p>“Come here.” John beckons, peeling back the silken sheets of the bed. The week at glance had offered him nothing but dire, bone chilling work. Missions complete, exhaustion prevailed. The usual amber tones held in a tall glass of Bourbon compared none to the waves of relaxation <em>she </em>could provide him.</p><p>He’d been craving more. Physical satiation. In dire need of long repose, John found himself unwilling to wind down with anything other than her.</p><p>Tonight, he’d find relief <em>inside</em> her. His nirvana would come buried inside her warm, heavenly haven reserved solely, for him.</p><p>
  <em>her buyer.</em>
</p><p>A heavy inhale cascades his lungs as he watches her, drawing closer. He toys, caressing the light threads of her top between his fingers deliberately, and a pitch black smoke pools his eyes, the weight of his member between the seams of his pants falling heavier, and harder, and <em>thicker</em> by the growing second. “I want this off you.” His smoothly rich voice leaks, and his hand travels, trailing, smoothing over the fabric rested to her figure.</p><p>Her throat goes dry. Anticipation builds. He toys with the hem of her blouse as she stares into his eyes; his watching the way her hands peel the textile off her figure. <em>She needs him</em>. Perhaps, <em>more</em> than he needs her.</p><p>John sighs, breath heavy, perhaps flustered by the rush of blood to his manhood at the sight of her body; something about the way her curves and dips fall so effortlessly to her frame, the way her long sleeve bodycon dress moulds, seducing each inch of her femininity under the warm bedroom lights.</p><p><em>Captivatingly beautiful. Enough to make any man weak in his knees</em>; <em>an enchantress</em>.</p><p><em>His newly purchased toy</em>.</p><p>Watching intently, a captivated John barely bites his lip in amusement, watching the skimpy fabric peel off her frame, revealing delicate lace shielding devourable womanhood. “<em>Mhmm</em>…” John barely sighs, the ring of a rich hum brewing in his throat as his eyes gloss, drink in the supple skin of her hips, the tender swell of her breasts under the lace. His hand travels nonchalantly to his throbbing manhood, palming tenderly with chocolate eyes firm to her body, and she’d swore.</p><p>In his head, he’d already undressed her a thousand times. His hands had already roamed, <em>delighted </em>each inch of her skin.</p><p>Leisurely, a sturdy hand falls inside John’s pants, his palm wrapping around the weighty shaft of his cock, rising eagerly to the thought</p><p>       of what he’d do to her</p><p>       tonight.</p><p>Pulling out his cock to the sight of her, half bare, awaiting his instruction, he opts for a seat to the Californian king, wanting so desperately to see her in <em>all</em> her glory. “Take it all off.” John affirms, an order she was willing to oblige.</p><p>John was the first to see her body fully on display, the first to set gaze to what only <em>she had </em>seen formerly. His prying gaze sends a pool of warmth, shivering goosebumps on her silken skin. Something about the way his gaze alone makes her feel so <em>desired</em>.</p><p>He sits, a heavy hand rested to his thigh, the other wrapped loosely around his swollen shaft, <em>stroking</em>, and <em>stroking</em> as his eyes watch, lock to her heavenly frame as she <em>strips</em> for him. Bulging veins throb thick in his dick, sensitive to his fingers touch, delicate to the sight of her unravelling, a gift <em>just</em> for him. “<em>Beautiful</em>…” He whispers, merely under constrained breath to the striking view, gruff toned, yet velvety as he watches her fingers un-clasp dainty bra hooks, allowing the textile to fall off her smooth shoulders <em>so</em> seductively. Her skin shines under warm light, and his hand unknowingly tightens around his base, eyes taut to her skin.</p><p>Right now, in this moment, everything he saw in front of him belonged rightfully, only to him. <em>She</em> belongs to him. For him to touch, for him to <em>use</em> as pleased. “Fuck…” A <em>burning</em> John mutters under his breath; a fire rummages inside his belly, the pent up frustration of a load inside him <em>pleading</em> to be released. With a stocky hand still offering tender strokes to his member, his voice gruffs, a deep baritone searing through the silent atmosphere. “Come here,” He punctuates. “On your knees, in front of me.”</p><p>Shivers emit down her spine, and her eyes find the floor, unable to connect to his just yet.</p><p>John was moral, humane. Yet still, he <em>was</em> her buyer. Surely, he wouldn’t hurt her or make her do anything she didn’t please; as confusing as it may have been, she <em>wasn’t </em>uncomfortable around him.</p><p>But she <em>was</em> nervous. Nervous that she wouldn’t do good. Nervous that she’d fall short of what he’d wanted. A sum as great as what John was paying her would <em>break</em> most people.</p><p>She finds herself pondering, why he’d chosen her.</p><p>“Show me how deep you can go.”</p><p><em>Like a lightening bolt</em>. His voices come in crashes<em>, pounding</em> like a lightening bolt. Something about <em>the way </em>he speaks to her.</p><p>The hardwood beneath her feet was cool, she’d known her knees would bruise for him soon. A warmth drills inside, anticipation of what was to come builds, and she thinks. She marvels,</p><p>She muses.</p><p>Of how her owner would use her tonight. Of what he’d want her to do.</p><p>Following suit, she collects herself, kneeling in front of John on the bedroom floor, his menacing cock sprung erect a mere few inches away from her face. John allows it to fall out his palm, opting to caress the ends of his muscle toned white shirt, drawing it over his head, revealing that familiar, beautifully toned torso. Bold tattoos, complimented by fresh<em>, deep purple bruises;</em></p><p>They hadn’t been there the last time they’d fucked.</p><p>And she remembers, under the dimly lit lights, the ink that stands bold to his back is a story; that perhaps his lips could dare not hold. She still wonders. She still guesses. <em>She guesses, she guesses</em>.</p><p>Tension tightens in his muscles, darkness ripples in his eyes.</p><p>John needed her sex badly, <em>direly</em>. The lonely depths of his desolate palm hadn’t sufficed since he’d been reminded of what human connection could do; how holy finishing <em>inside </em>a woman felt, paralleled to grey tissues and empty walls.</p><p>“Put those lips on me, sweetheart.” John’s voice illuminates.</p><p>Heavy curtains hide what went on inside the dimly lit bedroom. Veiled the way they sin in secret; Hid the way he was slowly creating a realm; one she’d touched not long ago.</p><p>One where only her and him were real. <em>Pleasure </em>was all that triumphed, his body the religion<em>,</em> and the alter washer mouth.</p><p>With cold hardwood underneath, she sinks to her knees in front of him, studying the way his thick hand holds his member, urging towards her lips; within seconds, she obeys. Lingering his length, she encircles his tip, shallowly taking the thickness into her mouth. Within seconds, every throbbing vein on his cock glides easily through her lips, cascading over her tongue, held by hallow, tightened cheeks. Tightening on her shining tresses, John’s head falls back in pure, unaltered, <em>pleasure</em>. His eyes close, his body tingles, the feel of her wetness swirling, <em>exploring</em> his shaft take over.</p><p>And in her mouth, he <em>melts</em>. He melts, and tensions fade.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>…” John sighs, eyes fluttering shut with each tender bob. She goes slow at first, offering kind, nervous bobs. His teeth grit, the sounds of sloppy slickness current through his ears, building inclination. Slow, steady, his palm trails, encapsulating around her hand as she works his length, bringing it his thick base. “<em>Remember how I showed you, use your hands on what won’t fit.</em>” He instructs, gently encouraging her to jerk his remaining length. She obliges, watching the way his chestnut eyes hold a familierness within them; despite being his, John treats her kindly.</p><p>Treats her <em>human</em>.</p><p>“<em>That’s it</em>.” He manages, groaning quietly under his breath as he gazes her, on her knees with his cock sheathed in her throat. It had been a while since anyone had taken him this way;</p><p>since he’d <em>allowed </em>anyone to take him this way, after… <em>her</em>. </p><p><em>Hel</em>. </p><p>“<b><em>Tighter,</em></b> <em>darling</em>.” He breathes, tightening his grip to her messy hair. “<em>Look up, eyes on me</em>.”</p><p>Slowly, steadily, she bobs further, taking more and more, pushing herself. John hired her for him to use, to please himself. Yet she finds herself, pushing her own limits to please him. To be good for him.</p><p>With his cock throbbing in her mouth, she wonders; <em>what it was, about the man with the bolded ink, the broad back and toned muscles.</em></p><p>Flattening her tongue over his length, she feels his palm in her hair, guiding gently, <em>up and down, up and down</em> on his painfully erect member, low groans and throaty moans leaving his lips in a delightful hum. As she ventures further, gliding more and more and more of him through her wet haven, choked gasps begin to emit, John’s bulge throbbing relentlessly now, weightier on her tongue. Punctuated by praise, and nonchalant breaths, she feels his spare hand move, planting to her bare breast as she continues to move. Tenderly, softly, his thumb swirls her hardened nipples, massaging, <em>fondling </em>the soft swell of her supple chest in his palm.</p><p>No man had ever touched her where John does, <em>with each intimate stroke, each lustful touch</em>, he marks her. Marks her as his.</p><p>The sounds of her mouth, they <em>kiss</em> his ears; the sinful, sloppy, wet sounds, the <em>slurps</em>, the vibrations against his cock offer an <em>unholy</em> wish.</p><p>He wanted more. He <em>needed</em> more.</p><p>With the baritone of his voice searing her ears, his question comes as she continues to move, allowing his tip to hit the back of her throat with slow, stable bobs. With a heavy hand travelling up, planting to the nape of her neck, John signals her, ceasing her devour of his erection. Muscles tensing, she gazes the way his biceps fall beautifully firm, his beard lays perfectly groomed, a darkness rippling in his chocolate orbs. Reaching forward, his warm thumb brushes over her ever so slightly buzzing bottom lip, voice deep, ringing with currents of dominance, assertion. “Do you trust me?”</p><p>As if habitually, she feels herself nodding slightly in return. Without thought, without said. She nods, and she stares, and she stares, and she <em>stares, feeling his gaze sink into her</em>. Without a moment to waste, she watches John raise off the mattress, opting for a stance towering over her, leaving her still on her knees, his cock dangerously close to her mouth still, glistening with her wet saliva falling in strings off his shaft. Gazing, she swallows a dense lump, watching the way he takes hold of an intimidatingly large erection, guiding it back to the security of her lips, swirling his head around the plump of her pink stained mouth. With a hand firm to the back of her head, he pushes a conserved amount of his length back into her mouth, his hand that had been holding his cock finding the back of her head, accompanying his other.</p><p>His voice flows through the room, heavy, shallow. “<em>If it’s too much, squeeze. I’ll stop</em>.”</p><p>And without warning, he sinks deeper, and deeper, and <em>deeper</em> into her throat. Only stopping when he knows she won’t be able to fit more. His hips rock, slow at first, his hands keeping her head situated still in place, slowly beginning to move faster, faster, harder, <em>quicker</em>. Incoherent gags fall her throat as the realization of what he’d begun overtakes her.</p><p>John, was fucking her mouth.</p><p>Exactly how he pleased,</p><p>however, he’d want.</p><p>Loosening her jaw, her hands plants firm to his callous, large thighs, feeling each vein, each <em>curve</em> of his dick plummeting across her wet, soaking tongue. Completely at his mercy, the sound of hallow gags and a mouth full of cock impend the room, gasps for breath muffled by his immense size sizzling in her throat as he thrust, and thrusts, channelling his needy pace into the vessel of her mouth. Hot tears char against warmth skin, his thick balls thudding against her chin as eager hips buck impatiently into her mouth, harsh praises and tender approval falling his deep baritone.</p><p>“<em>You’re alright, darling</em>.” He allows, warm thumb brushing, wiping away the sear of sweltering tears hot on her cheeks. “<em>I won’t hurt you</em>.” Unchecked tears and muffled moans follow suit, peppering the air as he thrusts, pulsating, throbbing, <em>twitching</em> in her mouth.</p><p>Bliss overtakes, John’s each nerve snapping, tingling with blissful warmth. She’s working <em>wonders</em> on his cock, louder, courser moans surface his throat, eyes fluttering in and out of light as his head falls back, <em>diminishing</em> into the feel of her. He shudders, shivering with each dip; the warmth, the tightness unlike anything he’s ever felt before. <em>She, was quite literally, something else.</em> He thinks to himself, he dreams to himself, of how he’d went so long, without someone like <em>her</em>. With each sink, his jaw tightens, goosebumps peppering his skin, chest heaving as she tries her best to hold in stifled gags; his hands eventually moving to cup her soft cheeks on either side as he <em>drills</em> into her mouth, chasing <em>ecstasy,</em></p><p>-until with an abrupt pull, her head yankers back in his grip, silky strings of saliva connecting to his tender length; his cock falling out her mouth still hard. Still filled with <em>need</em>. Feeling a mess, her brows thread in confusion, eyes wet, lips seeping the wet pool of slick he’d created inside. Her skin singes, a char in her eyes from the burn he’d left.</p><p>“On the bed.” He eventually ordered, flustered from a rush of his own paradise. His cock aches, his body <em>yearns</em> for the walls that squeezed, nestled around his member nights ago. If there’s one thing John knew, it was exactly that.</p><p>His release, needed to come from being <em>inside</em> her. She was <em>far</em> too heavenly to finish elsewhere. She obeys, finding place on the silky bed, supple skin and exposed womanhood making her appear all the more appealing. John’s member twitches to the sight of her; tantalizing, <em>a sex siren</em>, <em>and she didn’t even know</em>. “I want to tie your hands.” John speaks, ravishingly rich. “Do you consent?”</p><p>She’d nodded. She wasn’t even aware, when the words swirled inside her head, and when her hazed conduct nodded diligently.</p><p>She’d nodded, to be truly, at his mercy. She’d watched him, collect rope from a wooden beside drawer, positioning himself behind her, gently pulling her wrists together. He restrains them, fastening an knot, leaving her brewing with anticipation of what he’d do next.</p><p><em>Excitement, eagerness</em> to be fucked selfishly by him.</p><p>“Our contract will be regular.” John adds, towering tall beside the bed. Fishing a condom from the box, he slides it onto his thick manhood, his gaze turning locked to her body spread for his taking in the sea of sheets. “If you’re comfortable taking oral contraception, I’d encourage it.”</p><p><em>The pill. He wants her to get on the pill</em>.</p><p>She nods. She nods to all the propositions that spill his lips. <em>She nods, and she nods</em>.<b></b></p><p>In his nude glory<b>, </b>she observes his body, once again. His, was a body she adored, <em>awaited</em>. Mammoth length, finished with that familiar rosy tip. The thick veins, the sturdy shaft, the dark bush that <em>jungles</em> around, protecting the <em>treasure</em> that was his beautiful cock. She swallows, she gulps in the glory, and her mound tingles when he climbs on the mattress, the weight of his body sinking into the foam. Carefully, feverishly, he peels her bottoms off, a pair of sexy lace underwear matching the bra she’d removed earlier. With thick fingers and a callous hand, he palms her pussy, spreading the <em>nectar</em> that seeped for his taking over needy folds. He spreads her legs open further, palms placed under her gorgeous thighs; opening her up just enough to see a sheen of slick arousal coating her cunt, paired with a salacious sight of her sensitive clit, too.</p><p>With his body hovering over her, John takes in the delicious sight of her body underneath him, bound, at his mercy, for his taking. Hard, deeply shaded nipples, satin skin, plump on her chest, her breasts swell so deliciously; he finds it impossible to resist. With his cock sheathed heavy in his hand, John offers himself slow, prepping tugs as his lips trail, sucking, leaving a lone, delicate mark painted into the sensitive skin. She gasps at the pressure, wincing almost, swallowing thickly when she glances between their bodies, gazing the sight of his thickness erect in his hand, preparing to take her.</p><p>With two sturdy fingers glossing over her, he gazes the slickness; the moisture gathered between her folds, <em>all for him</em>.</p><p>All for him, <em>to sink into</em>. With his hand palming her pussy delicately, his voice interrupts, deeply rich, reminding. “Tell me to stop if you need.” She nods, remembering, of the way he’d said the same the first time he’d used her. John Wick could ruin her, if he wanted.</p><p>But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. She wonders where this humility comes from, how it lives in him. Yet, she keeps mum. She wont ask, she won’t intrude. This contact signifies merely, an exchange.</p><p>An even exchange; for him to get what he craves, for her to get what she needs.</p><p>Without much warning, John’s weight sinks into her entrance, the throbbing veins brushing her sensitive walls, quelling an obscene desperately muffled moan from her mouth, eyes widening, arm coming in rescue to cage in yelps and whimpers that threatened to fall.</p><p>The burn. God. <em>God. Why does it hurt so much, at first?</em></p><p>The electrifying sensation of John’s cock burying into her overtakes; the searing burn of the stretch he leaves behind unmatchable, soliciting sinful whines from her body below. With her eyes falling shut, and her walls clenching around him, the sounds of John’s haste picking up fills the room, his hips eagerly pounding her tight, delicate pussy seconds in. John’s lust filled, dilated eyes gaze down, his hands holding her hips secure in place as lewd moans caged by her arm over her face barely whimper; his cock pulsing inside her cushy walls, grinding against that oh so tender spot between her legs. With his fingers threatening to paint bruises into her skin from his delicate hold, she feels John’s grip on her waist tighten, rapt with desire. Sucking in a sharp breath, his hips pick up pace, groaning quietly to the feel of her pussy, and he thinks-</p><p>Her pussy was made just for him; perfectly mould for him, to indulge in.</p><p>Her breasts bounce beautifully, her body jerks with each volatile thrust, his <em>need</em> cultivates further. The sounds of his balls smacking against her womanhood send him further, the symphony of her stifling yelps and imprisoned whimpers begging to be heard by his ears as he works her. “<em>You</em>…” John breathes, hips snapping relentlessly, animalistic into her as he grips her tight. “<em>You don’t have to stay quiet.</em>” He clears, confirming. Although this was an exchange for him to receive mind blowing sex which he so desperately needed, he didn’t mind her enjoying herself. In fact, he <em>preferred</em> it. He <em>wanted</em> it. Her moans of pleasure would confirm; that she was <em>alright</em>.</p><p>That <em>this</em> was alright.</p><p>With a nod of her head, Y/N removes her arm from the cusp of her face, eyes fluttering shut, only opening scarcely when John’s pace never slows. Panting above her, John rolls his hips aggressively, biting his lip to the sight of her unravelling underneath him, and she <em>trembles</em>.</p><p>With her eyes closed, she finds herself lost. Lost in the feel of John fucking her so deliciously, so intoxicatingly, the perfect amount of pain and pleasure. The pleasure that pushes her over, the pain of his godly size that only intensifies it. Her back arches, legs practically falling limbless. Sweat trails down their backs, and they release shuddering breathes.</p><p>The sound of skin assaulting skin fills the room, and when her nimble fingers crave to sink into his skin, the pressure builds further, anticipation darkening within her. The pleasure is so intense, she practically screams, beautifully frustrated, begging, pleading for her tied up hands to be free only to clench onto John. <em>She felt herself, craving to hold onto John</em>. A mixture of their juices coat her thighs, John’s member glistening under the lights from the sheen of her arousal. The smell of sex floods around them, the heat shared between their bodies sending a turmoil erupt. Her toes curl, and each nerve inside John builds and builds, on the brink of release; he feels silky drops of pre cum spill inside the barrier of the condom between them, he only <em>wished </em>it could add to the <em>heaven</em> of wetness she’d made, <em>just for him</em>. Squirming underneath him, she practically whines from the force, yelps, moans, tightens her cunt around him tightly as he continues to rummage into her body, allowing those familiar, boiling hot tears to warm up her cheeks from the sheer <em>heaven</em> he’s channeling into her. “<em>John</em>…” She gasps, desperately attempting to gather her choked breaths. Her voice breaks, and she inhales a shuddering draw of air. “<em>Oh…John!</em>”</p><p>He feels himself slam into her harder, and harder, melting inside her. It had been far too long since a woman screamed his name. <em>Far</em> too long since he’d had the pleasure of sharing release <em>with </em>someone. He swallowed every noise to leave her lips greedily, and she shuddered against the burning feel of him drilling into her heat, over and <em>over</em>, and <em>over,</em> and <em>over.</em> Enticing whispers of praise for her body fall off his lips, as if <em>flowers</em> to her ears. </p><p>She’d never had anyone before John; the whispers of him voicing his pleasure from her only sent her further into oblivion. She feels herself growing tender, more tender by the second, the pressure building inside her core preparing for a release she knew would show her the stars; John had done the same only nights ago when they’d first exchanged service. He shudders, shivers, <em>groans</em> in his deliciously deep, bass heavy voice; feeling her squeeze around him harder when she screams his name a final time, her orgasm washing over in waves of cloudy, beautiful bliss.</p><p>His chest heaves, rhythmically, lust drunk and buried deep inside her, he huffs, pants above her, chasing his release, when it builds just to the brim, finally, desperately pulling himself out of her soaking cunt, the dainty condom harshly peeled off his dangerously firm, <em>mighty</em> cock, discarded hastily to the bin below.</p><p>Bringing his hand to jerk, tugging his harshly erect, tender cock, he watches her, flustered, skin sticking with sweat, cheeks warmed with after sex bliss. A euphoria has washed over her form, a paradise they’d created <em>together</em>; and he warns. He warns quick, before chasing his own. “<em>Open your mouth, sweetheart</em>.” He breathes through shuddering inhales, still jerking his sensitive bulge, watching her oblige, understanding <em>exactly what he wanted</em>.</p><p>He’d ripped off his condom tonight, before cumming. And suddenly, she realizes why.</p><p>John Wick, wanted to finish <em>on</em> her face.</p><p>With her mouth open, she anticipates. Another <em>first </em>added to her list of firsts when it came to her sex life. Another first, <em>that came with John</em>. John Wick; the mysterious, reserved John, who she knew next to nothing about. John Wick, <em>the man she knew </em>she’d have many more <em>sexual </em>firsts with.</p><p>And with his cock spilling release, she feels him inch closer to her face, unloading milky ropes of slick, glossy hot cum over her features; a considerable amount layering the insides of her mouth.</p><p><em>His cum, all over her mouth</em>. Her face, tainted with his seed. Her hands, tied by his desire. Her body aches fiercely, her pussy remembers the force he’d channeled into her, and <em>pleads</em> for more. With his cum painted to her face, she feels for the first time.</p><p><em>She is his</em>. She is <em><b>his</b>.</em></p><p>With a final grunt, John falls beside her on the bed, catching his own breath, and she sighs briefly, still flustered, at the feeling of lightness in her chest; vision growing fuzzy. Her head turns to the gray ceiling above, panting blissfully, stuck in the euphoria he built around her.</p><p>This world John was creating, this realm they both would exchange, was becoming something beautifully intoxicating. Something she wanted <em>more now</em> than, before. Turning her head slight, she’d barely noticed the shift of weight off the bed to her side as he’d untied her, his sharp, regal profile distant now as he grabs spare towels from the bedside. Laboured breaths calm immediately, easily smoothing out into an even rhythm.</p><p>Even the sound of his breath, flowing,</p><p>Sends a <em>shiver</em> flutter inside her.</p><p>Slowly, gently, he hands one to her, his naked form still in full grandeur as his buttery voice speaks, snapping her out of oblivion. “You’re alright?”</p><p>She only nods, connecting her gaze to him as she sits up, elbows base on the bed as she holds her weight up. Nude, the familiar blush of being completely naked in front of him brings a warmth to her cheeks, and she shies, crossing her legs closed, wiping her face of what <em>he’d left behind.</em></p><p>John watches. He watches, and drinks her in. He’d gone so long without sex, without real<em> touch.</em></p><p>But now, he had her. He had her service. He watches the way she swallows a lump in her throat, vapour dotted across her skin from their exertion.</p><p>She was gorgeous; beautiful, not that he had any right to think that. He’d only had right to her service. <em>Her amazing, mind blowing service</em>. The same service, that had kept him up nights prior, <em>lost </em>in reveries of the way she’d made him feel.</p><p>Unlike anything that could be moulded into coherent words. A goddess in her own right.  </p><p>He finds himself, far more relaxed, relieved than he’d been before she’d accepted his request for her to come. In the moment, relieved, sex gratified, John thinks to himself. Thinks of how lucky he would be from now on, to have her</p><p>
  <em>whenever</em>
</p><p>He craved. His proposition had been spontaneous; a mere proposal after their first meeting; his sex clouded and intensely satisfied mind propelling him to offer. Now, after hearing her approval, her <em>willingness</em> for their exchange being a regular occurrence bound by contract, John electrifies.</p><p>He thrills, he rouses. His cock pulses to the mere sight of her in his guest room bed, beautifully crafted. His pensive gaze soaks into her; nude, jaded, the beauty of her splendour.</p><p><em>The beauty of her body</em>. The sinful sight of her holy, <em>delectable</em> body. His eyes move to her pussy, glistening with product of what he’d made <em>gush</em> from her; a symbol of what <em>was his</em>. <em>Her pussy, belonged to him-</em></p><p><em>for the duration of the contract, for as long as he owned right to her service</em>.</p><p>He glides a shirt over his torso, a pair of grey boxers to accompany. The thought of a crisp pour of amber bourbon kissing his tongue sounds divine; a post sex drink to level nerves. Calm, collected, he gazes intently the way her sex smitten body positions, the trance dying down, her haze still thick, her skin vulnerable to prying eyes.</p><p>“I want you in the shower.” John speaks, rhythm of his tone reverted back to the reserved, assertive tenor. “Have yourself ready, please. I’ll be back in 15 minutes.”</p><p>        He’d be back for more. He <em>wanted</em> her, <em>more</em>.</p><p>Brittle fingers.</p><p>Insignificant, little, brittle fingers.</p><p>They’d <em>begged</em> to reach for him, <em>pleaded t</em>o touch him the entire time he <em>fucked </em>her mindlessly.</p><p>Something fitted across his expression when he’d turned to face her briefly, eyes flickering down, and up absently. Something wrote in his features; something she wanted <em>more and more each time </em>their bodies became one.</p><p>        <em>He</em>, was her first.</p><p>        And <em>she</em>, wanted him, to be her <em>last</em>.</p>
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